


Will Graham and You

by trr_rr



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cum Swallowing, Dirty Talk, F/M, Gun Violence, Rape/Non-con Elements, Threats of Violence, dark!Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 20:29:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1616069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trr_rr/pseuds/trr_rr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are walking home one night, a little later than usual, when you meet Will Graham for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will Graham and You

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags and warnings above, guys.
> 
> Made coherent by drinkbloodlikewine. Thank you so much baby, you are a star to me.

 

You walk quickly through the city. It’s after dark and you stick to the main roads and walkways. Orange street light floods the curb as you cross the road and continue on your way.

There aren’t many people around. It’s a quiet night. You’ve seen a few taxis pass by, disregarding the speed limit as they often do but no real traffic to speak of.

You reach the outskirts of the city where the packed in high-rises and bars transform into cafes, churches and train tracks.

Your nerves awaken as the lampposts become fewer and far between. You remember that story of a girl who was bundled into a car and found ten miles away in three pieces. You wrap your light coat around yourself tighter and quicken your pace.

You pass a couple who walk hand in hand, they laugh and you suppose they have been out drinking.

It would be nice to have someone to walk home with.

You’ve walked about three quarters of the way and you come to the underpass. The train tracks run through the city and you have to cross them to get home. There is no bridge, only a sort of tunnel that passes under the railway and out into an open field on the other side.

You knew you should have got a taxi from outside the bar.

“Um, excuse me.”

You jump, you’ve been on edge the whole way home and hearing a low voice out of the darkness makes your heart skip.

It’s a man, a little taller than you. He’s in a long coat and he’s wearing leather gloves. You can see he has dark curly hair but you can’t make out his features, his back is to the little light above the tunnel.

He was walking your way, back into town but he stopped when he saw you.

“Sorry.” You hold up your hand and keep walking, it’s not a good idea to stop and talk to strange men at night.

“Wait, can you help me? I’m kinda lost.”

You look around for other people who might be walking this way, it would make you feel safer but there’s no one around, it’s just you and him.

You stop outside the tunnel. You’ll run if you have to.

“Where do you need to be?” You offer with a sigh.

“I’m sorry, I don’t wanna freak you out, I need to get into town and I can’t find the bus stop. I need to get the number three. Do you know where it stops?”

You know where that bus stop is, you use it often. You feel a cold drip in the pit of your stomach.

“Yeah, it’s just on the other side of this tunnel. It’s over the other side of the field.”

“Oh, ha, that’s where I just came from.” He puts his hands in his pockets and starts to walk back through the tunnel.

You don’t really have a choice. You need to get home and you’ll look like a fool if you turn on your heel and walk back to town.

He seems friendly enough, polite; he even said he didn’t want to freak you out. Maybe it will be safer to walk through the tunnel with this guy.

“This is kinda weird. Sorry, I know it’s pretty scary for women out on their own after dark.”

“Yeah, well. I can run pretty fast.”

He chuckles as you walk into the tunnel. There are four lights dotted evenly through the underpass. They shine sickly orange and you see that this guy is actually pretty good looking, nothing like the guys who have approached you for help before and turned out to be perverts.

He’s cute. His hair is messy but charmingly so. His eyes are dark and he looks like he needs a good night’s sleep but he has a nervous little smirk. He’s just as hurried and awkward as you are.

“You got far to go,” he holds up a placating hand, “if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Nah, I only live over the field and then a little further.”

“You shouldn’t be out this late, it’s dangerous.”

“Yeah well, the taxi is expensive.”

You’re almost out of the tunnel, now. It was a little scary back there for a minute. Seeing the lights that show your way through the field really puts you at ease.

The tunnel gets dark between the lights. You are half way between the third and the final light when you feel his hand on your arm and you gasp. You pull away, or try to, tugging your arm from his grip but he’s stronger than he looks.

You’re up against the cold, damp stone wall before you can do anything about it.

You drop your bag.

“Let go!”

“Ssh.”

“Get off of me!” You scream but there really is no one around.

“You see this?” He pulls his hand from his coat pocket and you can’t quite see what he’s got.

“Stop!” You shout your voice echoes through the underpass. “Let me _go_!”

“Here.” You struggle against him but he takes your wrist in his leather gloved hand and leads your fingers to touch cold metal. “You know what that is?”

You give a sob as you feel that the man has a gun. It’s cold, that’s all you can say about it. You don’t know anything about pistols, why would you?

He isn’t pointing it at you; it’s pointed away, at the ground. He just wants you to know it’s there.

“Ok, ssh, quiet. Come on.”

You stumble and sob as he drags you out of the tunnel and around the corner. The underpass gives way to a small wooded area and a little brick building. It’s fenced off and you know that there are electrical pylons running high above.

“Go on.” He shoves you, pushing for you to duck through the hole in the wire fence.

You hesitate and he grabs your coat, bunching it in his fists as he forces you to the ground and follows you though.

You snag your leg on the poorly cut wires. You hear your tights rip and give a cry at hot pain as it digs into your thigh.

You struggle against his shoving. You see that the little building has a metal door; paint has flaked and bubbled off where it’s rusted in places.

The yellow sign on the door reads “ _DANGER OF DEATH_ ” and there’s a picture of a man being struck down by lightning.

The entrance gives way easily with a squeak and you’re bundled inside.

It’s dark. It smells damp and metallic. You’re shaking now, the adrenaline in your veins is telling you to run but there is nowhere to go.

“On your knees.”

“Please, don’t do this; I just want to go home.” You sob again; there are tears in your eyes.

He fists a hand in your hair, he tugs at you and you have no choice but to kneel in the dirt.

“Plee-heease…” You whine. “There’s some money in my bag!” You sound pathetic and you are frightened beyond your wits. Perhaps if you weren’t so scared you could defend yourself but knowing this guy has a gun, you don’t dare fight him.

“Shh.”

You hear him unfasten his fly and a wave of despair bubbles from your throat in a series of sobs.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be so dramatic.”

You have your eyes tight shut. He pulls your face closer and you flinch as you feel the fabric of his pants against your cheek.

“Come on, open up for me.” He’s whispering, almost cooing to you and it’s the most terrifying thing. You would have preferred it if he had beaten you and screamed in your face, not this. This is too much, it’s too gentle, too familiar.

Your head is tugged back and you feel the head of his cock rest against your lips. You can’t pull away; his hand is firmly knotted in your hair at the root.

“Do I have to remind you again?”

You open your eyes, trying to flinch but you can’t. You squint in the low light. You see the fabric of his pants, his cock hanging obscenely from his pants and the bright glimmer of light that bounces off the gun in his hand.

You bite down on your cry and it manifests as a powerless squeak.

“That’s right.” He nods down at you, bringing your head back to his crotch. “Open your mouth.”

Your stomach flips as he points the business end of the gun just under your jaw and you obey.

More tears slip down your face as you take the very tip of his cock in your mouth.

“Come on, you can do much better than that.” He whispers, pushing on the back of your head. “You can take all of it, I know you can.”

You’ve hardly got him on your tongue before you’re retching and heaving.

“Breathe.” He instructs. “Keep your teeth out of the way.”

He thrusts forward to the back of your throat and your eyes stream uncontrollably.

“Nnng!” You grab his trousers, trying to push him back, you can’t breathe, you’re suffocating.

He pulls back and you gasp before he pushes forward again starts a punishing rhythm.

He tastes clean, and for that you are at least a little grateful but you can’t help but think of disease.

“Oh, fuck yes.” He groans, pushing the gun a little too sharply into your skin.

“Hnn!” You squeal and wriggle in his grip.

“Shit.”

He pulls you off of him and holds you away for a moment, a vulgar line of saliva connect your lips and his cock. You gasp and gulp down air before you continue your sobbing.

“That’s gonna bruise.” He tuts, pulling your head into the dim light and inspecting your jaw.

You groan as he pulls you back. You keep your lips shut tight this time and he doesn’t like that at all.

“Open your mouth.” He gives your head a shake and the pain in your scalp rockets through you. “I said open your fucking mouth.”

You freeze at the sound of the gun cocking and obediently open your lips.

“Don’t fucking play with me.” He grinds out, the gun is pointing at your chest now. “I will put a bullet in you if I have to. You know that.”

You gasp down a lungful of air before he shoves violently into your throat again. You feel a blunt ache in your throat and your wet gagging only seems to spur him on.

“Nnn, you like this, don't you?” He thrusts his hips and uses his grip in your hair to tug you down onto his rock hard erection. "I bet your pussy's nice and wet for me, huh?"

You’ve given up on getting away. You don’t even try to push at his thighs anymore. You let your jaw go lax and kneel limp in his grip.

You hope that he’ll finish soon, that he won’t kill you and that he’ll finish soon. Despite knowing what that means is coming next.

“Sshit,” He stutters, panting and grunting above you. The gun moves up from your chest to stroke flat against your cheek. “That’s it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as you feel his cock throb and surge violently in your mouth.

“Aaauh.” He gives a long, rough moan as he pulls from the back of your throat.

You feel his release burst on your tongue. The dark, bitter taste of semen coats the inside of your mouth and you can’t spit it out because he’s pushing back into your throat and releasing another groan, another rope of cum.

He pulls out with a gasp and holds his hand over your mouth. He bends to growl right in your ear.

“Be a good girl.” He pressed the gun to your temple. “Swallow it.”

You shake your head, tears spilling over his leather gloved fingers.

“Swallow it.” He commands, gripping your face brutally and pushing the muzzle painfully into your skull.

You whine hopelessly, blinking hard before forcing yourself to gulp.

“Open your mouth. Let me see.”

He lets up on his grip and you stick out your tongue. He must be satisfied that you swallowed it all, he grins as he brings the gun down to your lips.

Your eyes go wide and you feel your heart race as the black metal slides into the back of your throat.

You can see the glint in his eye, the deep satisfaction he feels at having power over you. He doesn’t move it, doesn’t force you to suck it off in some spiteful play acting of the events just past.

You shudder and wait. Wait for the click. Maybe a bang, who knows what you hear when a gun goes off in your mouth.

“Close your eyes, please.”

His whisper sends a chill down your aching spine and you do as he asks.

“When this gun leaves your lips I want you to count backwards from five thousand to zero.” You hear his zipper pulling up. “Keep your eyes closed.”

You gulp reflexively as the muzzle is pulled from your lips.

You hear a few steady steps against the concrete.

“I don’t hear you counting.”

“F-five thousand, four thousand- nine hundred-ninety-nine…”

You hear the squeak of the rusted metal door and the quiet rustle of grass underfoot.

“Four thousand-nine hundred -ninety eight, f-four thousand - nine hundred - ninety seven, four thousand - nine hundred- ninety six, four thousand- f-four thousand…”

\--

 

Inspired by this:

 


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